Papercuts Klance AU
by Pidge-Funderson
Summary: Klance AU told entirely through the form of letters, as inspired by the "Feeling sorry for Celia" book series.
1. I - Letters from Garrison Academy

Dear Random Student,

This is kind of weird, isn't it? Being forced by our schools to write a letter to a stranger. Especially when that stranger is a student at a school which is famously arch enemies with mine. I know the government said that this is part of a program to try and improve "community spirit" or whatever, but I still think this is kind of weird.

Anyway, I guess I'll introduce myself. The name's Lance, which comes from the Germanic word for Land, even though I'm Cuban and I totally prefer the sky. I like video games and good music and cartoons and popcorn. I'm 16, in Grade 10, and I go to Garrison Academy (though you obviously already know I go there). I'm not exactly a straight-A student, I'll be honest, but I'm good at English and Music class.

I didn't really want to write this, but Hunk said that it was "important to give everyone the benefit of the doubt" and to have an "open mind". Then Katie made some sarcastic remark about Hunk's mind not being the only thing he always has open, as he never shuts his mouth. After that, I sort of zoned out as they relapsed into their usual "bants": where they'll shoot joke insults back and forth at each other. I try not to get involved because last time I did it ended in a three-day long spat in which neither of us would talk to each other. I guess my burns are just too sick for them to handle.

Anyway, this seems about long enough for an introduction letter, so I'll end it here. Best to leave your audience wanting more!

Signing off,

Lance

Words cannot describe how much I resent having to write this letter.

I almost considered not writing it. I thought about perhaps picketing and organising a march to protest against this travesty. Forcing children to communicate with others without their consent? There must be a law somewhere which could prevent this from happening. If I wasn't so swamped in the ridiculous amount of homework this Academy insists on piling us with, I might have done it. But, there you go. The joys of being a 15-year-old stuck inside our fractured and broken education system never cease to amaze me.

I'm not going to tell you my name. I feel like mystery is underrated, don't you think? Maybe you'll one day find it out, but I doubt it. I'm very good at being elusive if I want to be.

I have one request of you before I end this pointless charade of a letter - do you know a student called Matt Holt? We used to be friends of sorts, but a year ago he got into a fight with his parents and thought I took their side. Next thing I knew he was transferring schools and moving to the other side of town and refusing to talk to me or anyone else I know. Which is outrageously unfair and utterly uncalled for, at least in my case.

Anyway, if you see him, tell him that "Pidge" says hi, and that they totally think that it should be his decision whether or not he wants to go to university or not, and that his parents are idiots and that I was on his side all along.

So, thanks, I guess, in advance. Assuming you do pass along the message. If you don't, then fuck you.

Hello,

My name is Allura. I am eighteen years old and in Grade 12. I moved here, to Montgomery City, from England about a year ago, where I was born and raised. I enjoy Science and Maths, and am a Cheerleader for the Garrison Galras. I am currently hoping to be Valedictorian at the end of this school year. I have never been to the South Side of Montgomery City, where your Kaltenecker Academy resides, but I am sure it is very nice.

Yours respectfully,

Allura


	2. I - Letters from Kaltenecker High

Dear Lance,

I think this is the most idiotic project I've ever been made to do in school. I'm talking right back to Kindergarten, not even the "What did you do over the summer vacation?" essay or paper-mache volcanos that we're forced to make year after year can compare with this bullshit.

I really hate English class, and reading and writing in particular. Whenever I try to do it, the letters jumble and bounce and I can't concentrate. I don't get the point of writing letters - there's a reason people don't send them anymore, right? Why, then, should we have to?

The project was announced in the school assembly, just a few minutes ago. I raised my hand to make my argument clear as to why this project would have no real-world application. Reluctantly, Mr. Neuhahn (the English teacher for Grades 10 and 12 here at Kaltenecker High, who was the one on stage announcing the program) picked my hand. I made my case.

He started giving us all a lecture on how people send letters every day all around the world, and the communication skills we would gain from this program would be vital when we were living in the "real world" (he did the bunny ears thing when he said that, and glared over to me in my seat at the back). People were moaning and protesting against what he was saying, and my friend Matt was calling for a revolution. I don't know why, he likes English, but he also likes historical events where the many rise up against the few, so I guess I really shouldn't be surprised.

Then Mr. Neuhahn is said something else, shouting so he could be heard over the din of the unruly revolutionaries. "All students are required to participate in this program, or you will receive Fs as your final mark and fail this English class."

The room goes silent. Then the angry voices start back up again. "What?" "No way!" "That's not fair, you can't force us to do this!" "This is an abuse of power, I call for a public execution!" (That last one was Matt again, obviously).

Ok, so this left me with no choice as to whether or not I wanted to do this stupid little thing, and is the reason why I'm sitting in class, writing this now. I really, really cannot fail this class, because if I fail it then I'll probably be held back a year. I wouldn't normally care about that, but I made a promise to my mom at the start of Grade 10 that I would try and do my best in school and stay out of trouble. You're probably thinking "Why the hell would this kid care what his mom thinks?" And you know what? I'm not gonna tell you, because I don't need to. I don't need to get to know you, because after arguing with Mr. Neuhahn just now, I found out that technically I only need to send three letters in order to pass this assignment. So, after two more of these pieces of hell, I'm done. No more stupid letters, no more stupid reading, no more stupid writing. No more talking to posh kids who go to a stupid stuck-up school and think they're so great.

I guess I'll at least tell you my name, though.

It's Keith.

Hello Mysterious Writer,

As I compose this, I sit at my writing desk in the attic of my old, derelict mansion. The only light is the glow from the wick of my ancient candle, and the occasional flash from the lightning that cracks like a whip outside the fragmented window. The only noise is the rain hammering on the leaky rooftop above me, the creaks of the floorboards as the resident ghosts drift over them, and the irregular caw from my raven companion, Poe Edgar Allen.

I am on the edge of my etched and worn seat as to the question of who you are, stranger, who chooses to mask themselves under the pen name of "Pidge" and wishes me to pass an undecipherably coded message onto their old friend.

I have decided to accept the warm "fuck you" and not pass the message onto this undoubtedly handsome fellow known as Matt Holt. However, allow me to speak theoretically for a moment about your situation.

I can only assume, if I were young Matthew, that I would forgive you. I would also say that, in his defense, you never stuck up for him when his parents were screaming at him that he had to go to University, and instead went to your room and hid, giving the impression that you did not care for him or his perilous position. I could also possibly infer that he is currently living with his generous and classy associate, Takashi Shirogane, and is hoping to start an apprenticeship at the infamous manufacturers "Rolo's Robots" once graduating. I can also presume that this Matt Holt is delighted to hear from you and eagerly awaits the response from his loving sister.

But that's just a guess, of course.

Hey there,

Its great to hear from you! My name's Takashi Shirogane, but since that's a bit of a mouthful, everyone just calls me Shiro. I loved your letter, you sound like such an interesting person. You mentioned you were a cheerleader for the Garrison Galras - what is it like? I've always thought that cheerleading is such an impressive hobby, and should be respected more as its own sport, not just a sideline to football, don't you think? I play football for the Kaltenecker Cows (I know, that's our actual name) and always enjoy the spectacular shows the cheerleaders put on for us!

In our school, it used to be mandatory for all of the boys to try out for football, and all of the girls to try out for cheerleading. No one really questioned these blatantly sexist rules until my friend Matt came along last year. To preface: Matt is not a sporty person, and even less of a "run around after a ball and slam your body into other stronger guys' bodies" kind of person, as he likes to put it. So he took the matter to the principle and, after much debate, they let him try out for the Cheerleading squad instead! He didn't get in, but that didn't stop him from becoming somewhat of a legend, and he is now known affectionately as "All Stars" by the cheerleaders here. Apparently, this is a comical twist of a cheerleading phrase which refers to a squad that is not associated with a school, combined with the "memeish" song by Smashmouth. I haven't seen Matt look more proud since he programmed his Roomba to spout out quotes from "The Princess Bride" every time it accidentally bumps into an object. Boy, does the word "Inconceivable!" get annoying fast.

Looking forward to reading your response,

Shiro


	3. II - Letters from Garrison Academy

Dear Keith,

Wow. I have never read such an angry yet intriguing letter. I admire your spunk, I really do. Also, about the thing you said about the letters jumbling and bouncing whenever you try to read - my sister Veronica is dyslexic, too. I asked her what the best font for dyslexic people to read and she showed me. Even though its more of serif-y font, I'll try and make my handwriting match it. Let me know if it's getting too scrawly, ok?

I always find it amusing when someone calls me "posh" or "stuck up" because anyone who knows me for all of fifteen minutes can tell that I am very, very far from it. (Though I suppose you don't want to get to know me, do you?)

To prove to you that I am neither posh nor stuck up, I'm asking now the two people who know me the best, Hunk and Katie...

Hunk and Katie are now laughing like it's the funniest thing they've ever heard. It's been a full three minutes and they still haven't stopped. Tears are rolling down Katie's round freckled face, and Hunk is slamming the lunch table, where we're sat, with his fist. IT'S NOT THAT FUNNY. I need better friends, Keith, I really do. Matt sounds like a good guy, maybe we could trade? A two for one deal you can't possibly pass up!

It doesn't look like they're going to stop laughing any time soon, and people are starting to look over at our table. It's time to take things into my own hands. Wish me luck…

…Ok, I'm writing this part half an hour later in Principal Iverson's office waiting room. You might be wondering what happened between when I wrote the last paragraph and now, and you know what? I'm not going to tell you.

Just kidding, I'll totally tell you.

Ever since it came out last year, there's been a very serious rule amongst the three of us that Hunk and Katie enforced with an iron fist - no playing Despacito under any circumstances, ever. There's something about this song that just makes me want to dance. I'm a very dancy person already, Keith, but Despacito takes me onto a whole new plane of dancing existence - "dancistance" if you will. Unfortunately, they don't seem to be able to appreciate my talent and are always horrifically embarrassed whenever I start doing this, especially in public situations.

So, whilst Katie and Hunk were laughing, I started playing it on my phone, through my Bluetooth speaker which I always have with me at all times for dance-related emergencies (it looks like a blue lion, in case you were wondering. The wide-open mouth is where the speaker is). I had the volume on 1, at first, so that they couldn't hear it over their relentless giggles, but slowly I inched the sound up. When it got to about half way I stood up on the bench. Noticing the tune for the first time (I got twenty seconds in - a new record), the color drained instantly from my friends' faces. Their eyes widened and they squealed out feeble protests like "Lance, no!" and "Think about what you're doing!", but it was too late. The music had consumed me. The volume was on full and I was on the table, dancing and singing along, moving my body like liquid gold in time to the beat.

The entire lunchroom went silent as everyone stared at me.

There's something you should probably know at this point, Keith, and that is that I can speak fluent Spanish. On top of this, my mother's a Flamenco teacher, and my father is a voice trainer, so I was in my element with this song.

"Sí, sabes que ya llevo un rato mirándote / Tengo que bailar contigo hoy / Vi que tu mirada ya estaba llamándome / Muéstrame el camino que yo voy!"

By the time I got to the first rap halfway through the song, the entire lunchroom was clapping along in time, enraptured. This, of course, alerted the teachers who were milling about in the teachers' lounge next to the cafeteria, who poked their head in to see what all the noise was about. They instantly came rushing over and tried to get me down from my table-stage, glaring angrily at the lunch ladies who had made no effort to stop my show. But once I start dancing, nothing can get in my way. As one grabbed for me, I leapt from our table to the one next to us. This continued for at least six or seven more tables - and I hasten to clarify that I did not even once stop singing and dancing while the chase was happening.

But all good things come to an end, and eventually the last utterance of "Despacito" echoed out into the lunch room. I hopped off the table and bowed, before being roughly escorted out by a couple of red-faced teachers to raucous applause from the entire cafeteria. I just had time to glimpse Hunk and Katie covering their burning faces, rocking back and forth in embarrassment. My job there was done.

So here I am now. Principle Iverson has just said my name to call me into his office, so I've got to go and try to withstand what will probably be a painfully long lecture about "inappropriate behavior in the cafeteria". It's not my first time doing this, and it definitely won't be the last.

Wish me luck,

Lance

Dear stranger,

Ok, so you want to play roleplay, Mr. McGothic-Ghostwriter? How about court?

Your honor, I, Pidge Holt (I refuse to go under Katie - I hate that name), am here today to prove who my obnoxious "penpal" truly is. Allow me, if you will, to present my case in the form of this list:

1\. The obnoxious starting paragraph:

Who in their right mind would choose to start a letter to who you would think would be a stranger with the phrase "As I compose this, I sit at my writing desk in the attic of my old, derelict mansion"? Certainly not any sane person who is talking to someone they've never spoken to before, I'm sure you'll agree. Thus, I can conclude, that my penpal must be either lacking logical neural processors or that they know me already. Possibly both.

2\. Suspiciously detailed assumption:

Your so-called guess at how my brother, Matthew Samuel Holt, was feeling towards me referred to the situation with incredible accuracy and used a great deal more information than I gave you. Therefore you must know my brother well.

3\. The attendance of Matthew Samuel Holt at Kaltenecker High School:

A reliable source (who requested to remain nameless, but shall be known as Lance McClain because he doesn't deserve anonymity) has revealed that his penpal, "Keith", mentioned that he had a friend who he referred to as "Matt". This "Matt" was, at one point during a story Keith was recounting, calling for a revolution and a public execution. This sounds an awful lot like a Matt that is very familiar to me.

So, to summarise, we can assume that my penpal knows a lot about Matthew Holt and his situation, attends the same school where Matthew Holt resides, knows me, and lacks sanity.

Thus, your honor, I conclude that my penpal is none other than my obnoxious brother, Matt Holt himself.

I rest my case.

Dear Shiro,

I must admit, I was a little prejudiced at first when we had to write to a random student from Kaltenecker. There are horrible rumors that spread around our school about yours, and while I, of course, didn't engage in any of it, I couldn't help being a little skeptical. However, your charming letter was enough to distill any doubts I had about this program!

I enjoyed reading about your friend, Matt. He sounds very funny! The Princess Bride is one of my favourite films, but I hadn't watched it for years when you mentioned it. The night that I received your letter from the box that we have in our classroom, I went home and dug the DVD out of an old box of films I watched religiously when I was a kid. My boyfriend Lotor and I watched it, and although I don't think he particularly enjoyed it, I loved every minute.

I agree with you that I think cheerleading should be more respected than it is right now. It's a lot of hard work! I'm not quite as into it as most of the other girls, but I still like doing it. I only joined last year because I thought it would be a good way to make new friends and put myself out there, and it was! I met my best friend, Romelle, there, and Lotor, too - he plays for the Garrison Galra's football team as its quarterback.

When I first moved here from England I found the hardest part about cheerleading wasn't the routine or long hours, but trying to understand the game we were cheering for. Where I'm from, the game of "football" is what you would call "soccer" - a very basic and simple game with no extra, specially trained cheering involved. The closest thing we have to your football is Rugby, but I'd never seen a game of that in my life! The night before my first day of cheerleading practice, I spent hours watching videos and reading articles about how to understand football, so that I could make sure I would be able to join in with any of the other girls' conversations about it. When I got there the next day, though, it wasn't mentioned once, and I secretly suspect that most of them don't understand the details at all.

Awaiting your reply,

Allura


	4. II - Letters from Kaltenecker High

A/N: As you have probably gathered by now, I wrote this with the headcanon that Keith is dyslexic. As a result of this, his spelling isn't very good, but I decided to keep his letters spelt right anyway so that it would be easier for you all to read!

Hope you're enjoying the fic so far :)

Dear Lance,

I... don't really know how to respond to your last letter. It was a giant mess of wild, unearned-ego (yours) and second-hand embarrassment (mine). I have to admit, though, I did laugh out loud a few times, which warranted a few strange glances and dirty looks from my classmates and Science teacher as well as a detention once she found out what I was doing (i.e. not paying attention).

So now I'm sitting in the detention room writing this, which I can get away with doing because it technically counts as homework, even though the teachers don't get to read these. I don't mind detention that much, to be honest. It's quiet in here and it gives you time to have a break from the rest of the world. The only sound is the scribbling of my pen, the clock ticking on the wall, and the gentle sound of "muzak" coming through the small speaker hanging in the corner of the small, cluttered room.

Last year, in an attempt to modernize our school, the government launched this scheme called "Keep Kaltenecker Kool!" I can only imagine how hard you're cringing right now, and let me tell you, we felt exactly like you, but 100 times worse. I think a piece of everyone's soul collectively died the day it was announced. I'm feeling uncomfortable just thinking about it.

Anyway, so one of the first things they did was to replace the old crackly school speakers with new, wireless ones. This all seemed pretty boring to us until my good friend Matt noticed that the way these new speakers worked was via Bluetooth and that it came up as a registered possibility to connect on his phone, though he did need the password. After he had ecstatically ranted to me and my half-brother, Shiro, about it, he said that he reckoned he could guess the password pretty easily. We would then have a free range of all of the speakers in the entire school.

I thought this was a great idea. Shiro, on the other hand, did not. He's kind of a goody-two-shoes, but he there was nothing he could do to dissuade Matt. When he gets an idea, he'll stick to it right until the end. While he set about trying to guess the password (which took him all of five minutes - when will adults learn that "password1234" is not a good password?) he tasked Shiro and me with the issue of deciding what we would do with this power.

After scrolling through my Spotify playlists for a while, I found the perfect song. I showed it to Matt and he agreed that it was a magnificent choice. Even Shiro, who had up until this point refused to be a part of this, admitted it was a good selection. We agreed that the following Monday, we would put our master plan into action.

Monday rolled around, and at 8:57am, when everyone was sitting in the assembly hall but the morning announcements had not quite begun, it happened. Over the shouting, scuffling and chatting rose a single sound - a G note, high and pure. I looked over to where Matt was sitting, and he nodded. It had begun.

 _G F# D_

By now most of the kids and teachers had noticed. Some of them were looking around, confused, but a few of them rose on their feet and placed their hands on their hearts - those who were wearing all black and had coal-dark lines rimming their eyes. The emos started singing in unison to the Black Parade playing from the speakers.

"When I was / a young boy / my father / took me into the city / to see a marching band."

Slowly, more and more people started standing and singing simultaneously. The teachers were in chaos, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. By the time it got to the bridge two minutes into the song, every single student was singing along. It was the single greatest moment of my entire life, Lance. I have never felt such unity, but at that moment, we were one.

And then it suddenly stopped.

One of the teachers had finally figured out how to turn off the speakers. A collective groan echoed across the assembly hall as all the students realized the fun was over. Principle Koplar got on stage and shouted that whoever had done this was in some serious trouble and would be held accountable for their actions.

Needless to say, they never caught us.

But now my hour in detention is over now, and so I'll finish this letter off here.

Talk to you later,

Keith

Dear Pidge,

Ok, you got me. It's me, Matt, guilty as charged! I resent you referring to me as your "obnoxious brother" - I much prefer the term "abhorrent sibling" or "pestiferous slime", which are both phrases you have used towards me in the past. It's always nice to see my vocabulary rubbed off on you.

It's so great to hear from you, Pidge, it really is. I didn't realize how much I missed my lil' sis until I read your letters. Did you intend to come off as such an asshole, though? I feel like the "charm" in "sarcastic charm" is lost when you put pen to paper, no offense. Also, court? Really? A whole world of mystery-themed roleplay and you pick court? Why not an angry, grizzled detective? Curious crime-writing journalist? Even a righteous and psychic nun would have been more interesting. I must say, I'm disappointed in you, Pidge.

I was rereading your letter when I noticed something. You said you hated the name Katie? How come? I know you've always preferred my nickname I gave to you, but you've never said anything against your birth name before. I always thought it was a perfectly acceptable name.

In other completely unrelated news, I'm living with Shiro now. After the big argument I had with our parents last summer, I knew I needed somewhere I could go to live whilst I finish High School. Dad had said, (or, rather, yelled) that if I didn't go to University I couldn't continue to live under his roof and he wouldn't keep paying for me to attend private school, as apparently I was just "throwing away the education anyway". So I talked to my good buddy Takashi Shirogane who I knew through Programming Club, and he agreed that I could come and live at his place for Grade 12. Fast forward six months and some boring paperwork that I'm pretty sure Dad only signed because he thought I was joking, and here I am, sitting in the small living room of Shiro's tiny little apartment, listening to the Mii Channel remix on repeat and just having a gay ol' time.

I have a part-time job, too, in order to cover my share of the rent, at Kolivan's DIY Building & Hardware Store. I know, I know! You're probably laughing at me whilst reading this, in that irritating way you always do when you think I'm an idiot, the snickering "heh-heh-heh" kind. I admit, construction tools may not necessarily be my forte, but it turns out I am very good at scanning items at checkouts and lying to customers when they ask me hardware-related questions. (Sidenote - do you know the difference between Brad-Point and Auger drill bits? I fucking don't.)

Speaking of said job, I should probably get going, seeing as my shift started about half an hour ago. Looks like I'll need to grovel at Kolvian's feet in an effort to keep my job, but I'm used to it at this point.

See ya later, alligator,

Matt

Dear Allura,

When he got home from work this evening, I told Matt about you rewatching the Princess Bride, and he seemed very pleased. He told me to ask you if you had ever seen "Stardust", and started ranting about how good it is. He then got sidetracked because he found out that I myself had never seen it, which is why I am now sitting in our living room (we share an apartment) where we're about to start watching it together. Matt is making popcorn and talking excitedly about how much he loves this movie (read: young Charlie Cox playing Tristan). Even though he likes to act as if he's just a plain old tech nerd, he's secretly a huge fantasy-romance geek with a soft spot for "smol bean" actors, as he refers to them. Personally, I'm more of an action-sci-fi kind of person, (I'll take "Avengers" over "Edward Scissorhands" - another Matt favorite - any day) but I'll humor him now and again.

What are your ideal kinds of movies? Or, more specifically: what is the one movie that, no matter what, you would always happily drop everything you're doing to go watch? I feel like asking someone that question can always tell you so much about someone's personality! Personally, mine is "Spiderman: Homecoming". I don't know why, but something about that movie always reminds me of summer all-nighters and the feeling of utter freedom. I guess that sounds kind of weird, but I like movies for that! 100 different people could have watched the same movie, but all of them will feel different things whilst watching it.

Gotta keep this short, as Matt has just come back and is demanding we start immediately. He also says to tell you he says "Hi."

Now he's reading over my shoulder, and getting offended that I think "Avengers" is better than "Edward Scissorhands". I think I need to wrap this up before he manages to physically tear this paper from my hands and burn it, as he's threatening to do right now. Good ol' Matt, always joking around... I hope.

Looking forward to your next letter,

Shiro


	5. III - Letters from Garrison Academy

Dear Keith,

Today was the worst day I have had for a very long time. Seriously, I haven't experienced a moment this embarrassing for a solid, like, two weeks.

So, picture the scene: I was leaning against the school gates with Katie and Hunk, waiting to be picked up by my older sister Veronica, and drinking coffee in a sophisticated manner from my favorite mug, which read "Nobody knows I'm Bisexual!" (It's ironic because everyone knows. I got it from Hunk for my birthday last summer, just after I came out to everyone.)

Katie was making some snide comment about how she thinks it's ridiculous that I carry a mug and a flask with me.

I waved my free hand at her and turned to Hunk. "You hear that? That's the sound of a peasant who's disappointed that she didn't think of the ingenious idea to bring a flask of hot coffee with her to school."

"Is it even that hot anymore?" Katie grumbled, "You've had this with you since this morning. It's gotta be lukewarm, at best."

"That, my tiny friend, is where you are most mistaken. I snuck into the teachers' lounge just before we left, and refilled it. So, hah!" I jabbed a finger at Katie in victory, "It's piping hot." I took this opportunity to take a poignant sip.

It was at that moment that Allura and her posse of cheerleading friends walked past. Now, a little background information: I have had a huge crush on Allura since she joined the Academy a year ago. You're probably thinking, "Lance, she's obviously you're girlfriend by now, right? You're such a smooth dude, of course she'll have fallen prey to your irresistible charm." Well… yes and no. Ok, mostly no. Entirely no. 100% no. I wasn't convinced she even knew my name. Plus, she's also dating Lotor, aka Garrison's star quarterback and number one asshole.

Ok, so back to the story. Allura and her friends were walking past, and then she notices me. She turns and says sweetly in her sexy British accent, "I saw you singing and dancing in the cafeteria the other day. You're really good!" She laughed, but not in a mean way, more in that way that you laugh when a kid does something goofy.

I was shocked that she was actually talking to me. Out of the entire year she's been at my school, we've exchanged maybe three or four words, tops. I proceeded to turn bright red and tried to splutter out an "Oh, thanks" in the most casual way I could. But unfortunately I still had burning hot coffee in my mouth, so I ended up partially inhaling it and wound up choking. My face became even more tomato-like and I coughed some of my drink out onto my shirt in an effort to breath, and also accidentally poured the rest of the scalding liquid in my mug onto my foot. As if this wasn't bad enough, a single drop somehow flew into the air - from MY MOUTH - and in the direction of Allura. I felt time slow down and watched, helpless as it landed on her cheek. She blinked, startled.

Then Lotor materialized like a fucking ninja beside her. I don't know, maybe he was there all along, but I'm pretty sure he has the power to apparate because as soon as he could sense someone was making a fool of themselves in front of his girlfriend - BAM, he was there, ready to look down his stupid pointy nose at them.

He extended his pinkie finger and, whilst maintaining direct and unsettling eye contact with me, gently wiped the drop from Allura's cheek. Taking her arm, he finally turned. "Come on Allura, let's leave this buffoon and his friends." He started to walk snootily away, and she followed, but turned her head and quickly waved, looking a little concerned.

"Bye, Lance!"

I was left, in shock, reeling at how mortifying that entire experience had been from start to finish.

So, on the downside, I looked like such an unbelievably embarrassing idiot in front of my flawless crush that I will run from the room every time I see her for the rest of the year. But, on the upside, she totally knows my name!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go try and get coffee stains out of a blue baseball tee.

Later,

Lance

Dear Matt,

I knew it! I knew it was you writing to me. Hahahahahahahaaaa! This is exactly like the tooth fairy all over again, except this time no one's giving me money in exchange for small dentine body parts and I'm not left with a shocking feeling of betrayal and regret.

I'm glad you're living with Shiro now. I've met him a few times before, if you'll remember, and he seemed like a nice guy. I miss you a lot, Matt, but it's good to know you're ok, and I'm glad you've found a place where you seem happy and aren't being yelled at constantly by Dad. I think he misses you too, but I know his stupid pride is too big right now to allow him to see he was shitty to you. He'll see it one day, I suspect, but for now it's probably best he doesn't know where you're living.

How have you been? Are you still watching those stupid movies you always obsess about? I'm sure Shiro is just loving your extended ramblings of "interesting factoids" about the Princess Bride over breakfast! Have you made any new friends at Kaltenecker High? How about any special friends, huh? *nudge nudge, wink wink*

I suppose I should answer your question about why I hate my name. Firstly, the meaning ticks me off. Did you know Katie means "pure"? According to the internet, it does. I am NOT pure. Not even slightly. The very notion of me being pure brings tears of mirth to my eyes. But mainly, it's because of how feminine it is, I guess. You know I'm already not a very feminine person, but since you've last seen me, I've changed the way I present myself a lot. I've given up on contacts and now just wear glasses, and I've stopped wearing the stupid skirt we're supposed to wear for our uniforms and I wear the pants instead, and I donated all of my dresses to Goodwill.

A few months ago, I was looking in the bathroom mirror, and I realized the person staring back wasn't me. Not in like a creepy, horror movie way, more in a dysphoric way. There was a pair of scissors on the bathroom sink, and without even thinking, I just reached for them. I cut all of my hair off so none of it fell further than my neck. It was all I could do not to keep on cutting it.

Mom and Dad freaked out, of course. I sort of just zoned out whilst they yelled, and tried to look ashamed, but it was the best I'd felt about me in forever. Mom offered to take me to a hairdresser to get it cleaned up, try and make it into something cute and stylish, but I refused. There's no way anyone else but me is going near my hair ever again. If I let them, they'd just try to make it look all feminine and pretty, try and shape it into something they think a girl would like.

But I'm not a girl, Matt. I don't know what I am, but I do know that every time someone calls me "she", or "honey" or "sweetie" I want to vomit on their shoes.

I don't know what I am, Matt, but I know that I'm not a girl.

I don't know how to tell anyone, though. Mom and Dad would just think I'm saying I'm a boy, which I'm not either, and I can't even begin to imagine saying this stuff out loud to Lance and Hunk or anyone else I know. You're the first person I've told, and even this is scary.

Ah, shit, gotta go now, as Mom is asking if I've done my homework yet and is starting to get a little too nosey about this letter-writing thing.

Bye,

Pidge

P.S. You have to tell me something you haven't talked to anyone about yet in return for this because there's no way I just opened up without getting some juicy insight into the new Matt lifestyle.

Dear Shiro,

Yes, I've seen Stardust, and I agree with Matt about how great young Charlie Cox is! I've not seen many Marvel movies, like the one you mentioned, but I'd like to try some one day, as they seem pretty cool and entertaining.

I think the movie that I would always drop everything to watch has to be "Begin Again". It's kind of a small indie movie, but I love how simple and sweet the story is. Plus, I'm absolutely in love with the soundtrack - and having Keira Knightley as a main character makes it pretty great, too.

When I first moved here, I struggled a lot with feeling incredibly isolated. I would sit, every night, listening to Keira Knightley singing "Lost Stars" over and over again, pretending not to exist. I got through so many tough days with the help of that soundtrack and pushed through to the better place I'm in now. I know Montgomery City well enough to almost think of it as home, and I have lots of friends, and Lotor, too.

At least, I think I have Lotor. He's been acting really weird recently, all shifty and jumpy, and he won't look me in the eye. It doesn't help that he's been spending extra time with the leader of the cheerleading squad, Axca. She has purple hair and wears violet lipstick and his kind of intimidating. Though he says he's only hanging out with her to help her with her Science, I'm not convinced, as Axca is Miss-Perfect-4.0-GPA.

I hope it's ok me talking to you about this, but I don't have anyone else to speak to. The only other person I can turn to is Romelle, be she just went off onto a tangent about how she totally thinks that she should be cheerleading captain instead of "that purple idiot", and completely forgot the point of the conversation.

I'm kind of worried Lotor is cheating on me.

Wow, that seems weird to write down. It's just that he's been so off lately, so reserved and withdrawn. In fairness, Lotor isn't exactly the most open person, but he's been distant, even by his standards. And given the choice between a smart, pretty and powerful woman and me, I wouldn't be surprised if Axca came out on top.

So I thought I'd get an outside opinion. What do you think about this Shiro? I guess this is odd to ask you, as I don't really know you that well, but I need this. I need to stop getting in my head about this.

Anyway, I must go now. Sorry to bother you with such trivial questions, and I'll understand if you aren't interested in talking about it.

Sincerely,

Allura


	6. III - Letters from Kaltenecker High

WARNING - SMALL S7 SPOILER (just in this note, not in the chapter): The trailer dropped a few days ago and wow, does season seven look intense. Grab your bumper-size tissue boxes, everyone, and prepare for the emotional rollercoaster! Also, SHIRO HAS A BOYFRIEND. I'm quaking. Unfortunately, since I already have most of the storyline planned out for this fanfiction (I swear there will be some actual plot soon) I probably won't be able to include Adam in here. Hope you'll still enjoy it, though!

Alright, on with the chapter...

Dear Lance,

Dude, you need to put "WARNING - HIGH LEVELS OF SECOND-HAND EMBARRASSMENT PRESENT" on the envelope next time you tell me stuff like you did in your last letter! I need to have more time to emotionally prepare myself for shit like that.

I'm pretty sure everyone has moments like that in their lives, though. Moments where you wish the ground could swallow you whole and everyone would forget you ever existed. Like this one time when I went with Matt to "Rolo's Robots" - it's a computer store in our area where Matt is doing an apprenticeship next year. He was supposed to be meeting with some guy to talk about what his "apprenticeship would entail" or whatever. When we walked in, I started to walk towards the waiting bit in the corner, but Matt got distracted by a robot or holodeck or something in a different area of the store, and just sort of left me there.

I sat awkwardly for a minute or two, and then this tall guy with bleached white bangs, little gold earrings and this sort of rugged smile walked in. "Matthew Holt?" he asked.

I realized then that he was looking for Matt, and this was probably the person who was in charge of the apprenticeships. He looked around, but Matt wasn't there, because he was still looking at the stuff they sold. He seemed as if he was about to leave, because no one answered him, and I knew I needed to do something.

I stood up, "Um, hey-"

His face lit up and he grinned at me, "Ah, are you Matthew Holt?"

I lost control of my tongue. "I, um, sort of? I mean not exactly, but, like, I just wanted to say that I- I mean, he wanted to say, that we… uh..."

He laughed, "Nervous, huh? That's ok, you'll soon get used to this place." He slapped me on the back and I felt my soul leave my body. "Alright, let's go to my office." He guided me to a room in the back and opened the door. "Come on in!"

Abruptly, I realized in horror what was happening. I had made an awful mistake. Shitshitshitshitshit. I needed to get out of there, fast, but I was in too deep. I couldn't back out now. Against all rational reasoning, I stepped into the office and took a seat.

"So, Matthew," the young man glanced at the computer screen that he sat behind, "it says here that you're currently in your final year of advanced computer science and programming at your school right now."

I blinked, "Uh, yeah." He looked at me, and it dawned on me that I should probably say more. "I have a lot of experience with computers. Y'know… emails. Sending emails. Receiving emails. Deleting emails. Um… I could go on?"

The man - I still hadn't worked out his name - threw back his head and laughed. "Very funny!" he winked at me, "I think you'll fit in well around here."

At this point, I wanted death. I couldn't just get up and leave, but there was absolutely no way that I could keep going like this. Shitshitshitshitshitshit.

Suddenly, I was saved. The door swung open, and a tall girl with blonde pigtails poked her head in. "Rolo? Matthew Holt's here." Matt - the real Matt - walked in.

Rolo looked confused. "What?"

"Hi sir, it's a pleasure to meet you!" Matt said cheerfully, then noticed me. "What are you doing in here? I thought you'd gone!"

Before I had time to explain, Rolo butted in. "Hang on," he gestured to Matt, "Who are you?"

"I'm Matthew Holt, here for the apprenticeship meeting."

"Then…" Rolo's eyes flicked over to me, "Who's this?"

I stood up abruptly. I could not stand another second. "I HAVE TO GAY," I said very loudly and ran out of the door and bolted from the store. I kept on running. It was only when I got two blocks away that I realized in panic I had said "gay" instead of "go". Death could not come soon enough. God, even writing this now I can feel my soul curdling.

Matt had a field day the next morning at school, retelling the story to anyone who would listen. Unfortunately, "anyone" included almost everyone. He insisted on calling me "Matt 2.0" for the rest of the week, a nickname that I have only just managed to lose.

God, I can't believe I just told you that story. You have to promise never to bring it up to me, because I will melt into a puddle of cringe if you ever do.

I guess basically what I'm trying to say by telling you all this is don't feel too bad about the coffee incident! At least in your case, choking on a drink could happen to anyone. Pretending to be your friend for a job which you have no qualifications for just because the interviewer is hot is something only a truly awkward person such as myself could do.

On another less embarrassing topic, I actually have a question I want to ask you, and I suppose it's sort of related to your story. You mentioned that you came out as bi to everyone last summer. This probably sounds weird, but how do you do that? Come out to people, I mean.

I've never told anyone about my sexuality. I'm sure my mom may have an inkling of a suspicion, but we never talk about it. The only person who I think knows is Matt, but that's only because he can see all of the signs of a closeted gay in me that he saw in himself a few years ago (fumbly around cute guys, secret love of David Bowie, less secret love of Brendon Urie, etc). Besides, he's never bought it up (though that doesn't stop him from sending unsolicited fan edits of Brendon Urie and David Bowie to me with no context at 2:00am). I guess I'd like to come out, but I'm so afraid of what would happen if I did. What do you think I should do?

Talk to you later,

Keith

Dear Pidge,

I always sort of suspected about the whole gender thing. Ever since you were a lil' tot, you've always shied away from gendered things. Mom and Dad just thought you were just a progressive toddler with a logical and feminist opinion on gender segregation, but I knew there was something else going on.

I'm not going to tell you that you 100% have to come out to anyone about being NB. No one can decide whether you should do that except for yourself. What I will tell you is that when you're ready to come out, you'll know. It may take some time for the people around you to understand your identity, but they all love and care about you so, so much. They'll try their best to support you, I'm sure of it.

Ok, now your demand for a secret I haven't told anyone:

Shiro kissed me.

It was a few months ago, a little while after I moved in with him, and it just sort of happened. We were sitting on the couch in the evening, talking about random shit like we usually did. Shiro looked kind of down but didn't seem like he wanted to talk about it, so I left it alone. We just stayed up and talked about life until, like, 2:00am. We got onto the topic of Universities, and I said that I thought that the entire system of enrollment was flawed, and how some Unis were considered "better" than others was bullshit, and that it makes people believe they're worthless when they don't get in. I was ranting a bit (you know how I get) when he just suddenly leaned in and kissed me. After that, he said some stuff to me that was pretty intense, about how I was so nice to him and so funny and kind and amazing and how he thought I was the best person he had ever met and he was so stupid and horrible and didn't deserve me. Of course that was bullshit so I shut him up by kissing him. Things sort of spiraled from there.

Then, the next morning, Shiro just acted like nothing happened. I mean, literally, he didn't say anything about it at all. When I tried to bring it up he claimed he was so exhausted last night he couldn't remember anything at all, but I knew that wasn't true. We both knew what had happened.

But he's never mentioned it since. He's just gone on acting like the usual Straighty McStraightguy he always was before. And though I've tried to carry on like normal as well, as if I'm still his best friend and that's all I ever was, it still sucks, y'know? To be roped in like that and then dropped and ignored. It really hurts.

So, there's your secret.

I'd better shake, rattlesnake,

Matt

Dear Allura,

I watched the trailer for "Begin Again". It looks good! I bought it to watch tonight for the weekly movie night I have at home, as it's my turn to choose. Movie nights usually consist of my half-brother, Keith, coming to sleep over, eat too much popcorn and sneak some of Matt's beer when he thinks I'm not looking (I always am).

Last time was his turn to pick and he went with "Now You See Me". Keith absolutely loves mysteries. He has the entirety of "Hustle", "Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries", and "Death in Paradise" as well as far too many Sherlock Holmes spin-offs and more. He prides himself in being able to guess the outcome of every puzzle but will shout out his predictions whilst we are watching to a degree of accuracy that it takes the fun out of it for everyone else. Last week it got so bad that Matt threatened to gag him if he didn't shut up. He sat in sulky silence for the almost all of the rest of the film. When the final plot twist was revealed, he quietly whispered, "I knew it."

Matt lost his shit. Popcorn was thrown. Bloodlines were insulted. All in all, an average movie night.

I considered your question from your last letter about your issue with Lotor for a while, and I think the best thing for you to do is to just talk to him. I'm not saying to tell him you think he's cheating on you, but to speak about how you're worried there isn't enough communication between you two. I have watched poor communication destroy so many relationships and friendships, that I would hate for that to happen to you. If anything is making you feel upset or uncomfortable, let him know. He may not see any problems or understand that he is hurting you unless you do.

Keith has just arrived for the movie, so I'll bid you adieu for now. I'll let you know how "Begin Again" goes down!

Looking forward to your next letter,

Shiro


	7. IV - Letters from Garrison Academy

_A/N: Heres the link to the earrings Allura refers to in her letter: uk/listing/94821578/rare-lavender-raspberry-opal-stud_

Dear Keith,

Wow, hypocrite much? You have the audacity to accuse me of unexpected awkward tales, but I don't see any warning bells before your mess of a story! I refuse to put notices before any of my recounts. Who knows, I may spring an embarrassing story on you at any moment, like a cringe-ninja. A crinja, even. Prepare thyself, Keith (or should I call you Matt 2.0, after your last letter? You have to admit, it has a nice ring to it.)

Moving on to coming out advice: I'm no expert. I've only done it three times, but I guess the most important thing is that you're safe. Never tell anyone if you think it may create a dangerous situation for you. I've known I was bisexual since I was at least 14, but I held off telling my parents until a few months ago because I didn't know how they would react. I came out to Katie first, back at the beginning of the summer. I knew her brother was gay, so I figured she'd be ok with me. Shortly after that, I told Hunk. They were both really cool with it, and I know I'm pretty lucky to have friends like that.

I managed to go a whole summer of being out to my friends but still surviving the smotheringly heterosexual vibe of home life. Finally, towards the end of Agust, I couldn't take it anymore. After speaking with Hunk and his Mom, we agreed that if my parents reacted badly to me, I could come crash at their house for a while. Just until things had cooled down, until I knew that I was safe. My parents aren't super religious, but they seemed to have their heteronormality-goggles strapped on pretty tight, and always seemed to skirt uncomfortably around the topic of LGBT+ things. It was a risk even bringing it up.

I came out to my parents through the form of a mixtape.

Let me explain: when I say "mixtape", I don't mean an actual tape. This isn't 1972. I use a USB stick like any respectable Gen Z kid would, but I just call them mixtapes because it sounds cooler than "playlist on a USB stick", y'know? I often make mixtapes for people when I need to say things that I can't put into words. When Hunk and Katie and I fell out one time, back in freshman year, we didn't speak to each other for two weeks. Then, one day, I couldn't take it anymore, and I put a little USB stick through each of their doors, attached to a note which simply read "Sorry". It had songs on it like "Castle on the Hill", "Don't look back in Anger" and "What you're thinking". The next day, we were friends again. I've been making mixtapes ever since.

But coming out was different. I chose my songs and left the stick on the kitchen counter labeled "To Mama and Papa" just before they both got home from work. I sent them a text saying I was eating at Hunk's for dinner, but secretly hid in my room and lay as still as I could underneath my bed, heart pounding in my chest.

I heard the car drive up and the two of them come in through the door. Laughing and chattering in Spanish, they walked down the corridor and into the kitchen. The talking stopped for a moment, and then the playlist started as "Te Amo" by Rihanna came on. I could feel the rhythm of their dancing from the floor below, and how it switched when the song changed to Ani Defranco's "In or Out", and switch again when the music became "Billy Brown" by Mika. The three songs' style contrasted abruptly as one ended and another began. I silently prayed they'd noticed the theme.

The final notes echoed out into the kitchen as I held my breath and quietly walked down the stairs. What came next was something I had never done before. I heard the sound of my own voice come on.

"Mama, Papa, there's something I need to tell you," my recording began. I paused. "I'm bisexual."

And that was it.

"Coming Clean" by Green Day started playing, but the dancing had stopped. Timidly, I shuffled into the kitchen. I needed to do this.

When you come out, there is almost always tears. You get lucky if they're happy tears, you get unlucky if they're sad, and you get beaten if they're angry. I will forever be grateful that I got mostly the former, but I won't lie to myself and say that was all it was. Their idea of who their son was had been shattered, and the Lance they had thought they'd known was never coming back. But they still accepted their new son, their real son, into their lives. And that's all I can really ever ask for.

But before I finish that story, I hasten to add that whilst the playlist was running I had my best friends waiting in Hunk's car a block over, and my packed bag hidden by the door. I was ready to run.

I'm not sure what you should take away from all of that, really. Whatever you do, whenever you come out, just make sure you're safe about it, ok?

Anyway, I guess you won't be writing back since your last letter was your third.

This was fun.

Bye,

Lance

Dear Matt,

Thanks for the words of advice on coming out about my gender (or lack thereof). I don't think I could bring myself to tell anyone else right now, but I'm glad I can tell you.

What Shiro did to you sounds really shitty, and he had no right to treat you that way. I'm not about to jump to his defense, but I wouldn't be surprised if part of the reason he's been so silent about the situation is that he's scared. It can be scary realizing you're not actually the "Straighty McStraighGuy" you thought you were. I hasten to remind you that during the year before you came out, you overcompensated in a way that screamed "The lady doth protest too much, methinks". You developed a heavy "crush" on that cheerleader who was dating that one guy who looked like Michael Cera, though it was clear you just wanted to _be_ her, not date her (your obnoxious obsession with actual Michael Cera didn't help your case).

Anyway, my point in this is not to help resurface cringe memories - though as your sibling that is partially my responsibility - but to remind you of how much you overdid your heterosexual act when you first realized that you yourself weren't Straighty McStraightGuy. That was your coping mechanism. Maybe Shiro's coping mechanism is just pretending any of his GayThoughts™ doesn't exist for as long as he can.

This probably isn't the answer you're looking for, but I'm gonna say it anyway: the best thing you can do in this situation is just leave it. If Shiro is really your friend, he'll realize that talking to you is the right thing to do. After all, no one can escape the GayThoughts™ for long - you're walking proof of that!

Cao,

Pidge

Dear Shiro,

I'm excited to hear that you're watching "Begin Again" with Matt and Keith! I'm interested to hear what you all thought of it. I've not watched it with anyone else but Romelle yet. She liked it but seemed disappointed by the ending. She said she expected there to be more "juicy romance" at the end, but I think the most beautiful part of the movie was the ending _because_ it doesn't need a "they got married and lived happily ever after", that's what makes it so special. She didn't get it, though. I hope you do.

Thank you for the advice about Lotor. I spoke to him like you said, a few days ago. I told him I was worried that he had been acting off lately, and he explained that he had been stressing out about the academic pressure from his parents that he had been experiencing. I gently reminded him that if he was stressed about things he should talk to me about them instead of bottling them up because that would end up hurting both of us more. He agreed.

Today Lotor gave me a small velvet box. Inside was a gorgeous little pair of Lavender-Raspberry coloured earrings. They were shaped like teardrops and made from opal, my birthstone. Gold backed and attached to two small hooks, they were the most beautiful things I had ever seen. He said it was an apology gift, to make up for how distant he's been lately. He seemed really, genuinely regretful, and eager to make sure I wasn't angry at him. I suppose things will be better between us now, which is good.

So, in return for helping me with my concerns, I want to assist you with a problem you have in your life! If you have any dilemmas that you aren't sure what to do about and need an outside opinion on, then I'm happy to help! Of course, it's fine if you don't want any help, or if you don't feel comfortable talking about it, but the offer is there.

Homework calls, so I must say farewell for now. Thank you again!

Sincerely,

Allura


End file.
